


Shuck

by PSIDontKnow



Series: Knitting Lace out of Lashes [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Desert, Gen, Sheith if you squint, Shiro is a sap, T rating for a little bit of blood, The Aesthetic AU, We're back with the desert aesthetic au, other than that, this is p family friendly, this time with desert at night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 11:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7507357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PSIDontKnow/pseuds/PSIDontKnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>{Dancing in the dark, the tales won't last forever}<br/>{And if we see you fall apart Then we'll stitch you back together}<br/>-------------------------------------<br/>Takashi's memory can be spotty sometimes, but he remembers the things that matter to him.<br/>Blood Moons, Copper Hair, A boy in the sand, the smell of something almost mint, and the sight of the stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shuck

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics in the Desc. are from Tangled up in Stars by Stealing Sheep, title is from Shuck by Purity Ring

Takashi's family had lived in the desert town for years, always near the edge. He's grown desensitized to the talk of bodies being found a mile down the road from his house, and, even as a two year old, he knows not to go past the bushes where the Juniberry flowers take root. Still, everyone is on edge tonight, and he thinks it has something to do with the dark, the moon blotted out until it looks like a scab and the stars little help against the still night. No one sleeps during the eclipse, and he sits in the window sill, face pressed against the glass because he feels like he should be.

"Mama, can't we help the babby?" He asks softly, because he had seen the man run into the desert a half hour before, he can hear the screams of the baby left to die in the sands, and his mother runs a hand down his back.

"No Takashi, this is the family's choice and we cannot interfere." Her voice is calm in the way that he knows means anger, like when he'd stolen his baby brother's blanket, and he nods. He doesn't leave the window that night, not until he falls asleep, and never sees the shape of the lion that takes the squalling baby.

\---------------------------------------------

When he's seven, he sees the boy walk into town from the desert, sees his bare feet and the ratty black cloak he wears, and somehow knows that - impossibly - this is the same baby that had been abandoned years ago, while he could only watch from a window.

There's a feeling of relief that he's not quite sure is his own, but he still watches every month as the child comes back on the night of the full moon.

\--------------------------------------------

When he is 11, he gives the sand child a name, something random that comes from the top of his head, but the other boy's eyes light up all the same. He mouths the name 'Keith' and looks stunned that he's been given a name.

"And you can call me Shiro." He grins, all friendliness, and doesn't think about the fact that he just wants to be the White to this boy's black sand, that no one else calls him Shiro and it's a name just for his new friend.

"Shiro." Keith murmurs back, smiling at him like he hung the stars and there's a feeling like purring and contentment in the back of his head.

\------------------------------------------

He's thirteen and almost dead.

It was an accident, he was standing on top of his roof, trying to see across the desert, to where Keith had said there was a shack that he lived in. He should be able to see it, there's a full moon out, the stars are bright, and Keith had just left, promising to turn on the lights so that Shiro could see it. He leans too far though, over balances, and there's a moment of air rushing past him before he lands hard on the ground, everything turned wrong and he so so desperately wants to scream. The air won't leave his lungs though, only pained gasps and blood, so much blood.

The world is going black, and he feels so bad that he won't be there when Keith comes back next month, when his little brother gets his first crush, that he's going to make his mama cry. He's drowning in blood and tears and despair until there's the cool brush of a hand against his cheek, the gentle chime of silver, a smell that's almost like mint, and someone whispering to him.

_ It's not yet your time, Little Star. _

He wakes up later, sand and blood congealed in his mouth, the moon high in the sky, but there's no pain anywhere.

\-------------------------------------------------

For years after that, he dreams of stars, the chime of silver bracelets, and the feel of cool boney fingers and rings cupping his cheeks while the almost-mint smell circles his head.

\-------------------------------------------------

When he's sixteen, he moves away from Desert Town.

Partially because Arus has a less stupid name, partially because they're the only town with something resembling a college on the entire Isle and he wants to do double credit classes. It's not uncommon, not with how small the island is, and there's a dorm there waiting for him. What worries Shiro the most about this move is that there's no Keith. The Arus forest butts up against the desert, but the town itself is too far from the desert.

("Could you ever leave the desert entirely?" Shiro had asked one time and Keith had given him this look, sad and shocked that Shiro would even ask. His indigo eyes had glowed faintly in the moonlight as he'd shaken his head no.) 

He sets up an arrangement with the teachers, saying something about a cultural thing, a family thing, and no one in Arus bothers to double check. He knew they wouldn't, Desert Town is left on it's own - far more superstitious than Arus - and Shiro gets a three day pass to go home every month for the full moon. He tells Keith about the new town, new friends, about his classes, tells him about the things his mother and brother call to tell him. He brings the other boy gifts when he can, and when Keith squeezes his hand Shiro just smiles and twines their fingers together.

It leaves a feeling like home in his chest.

\-------------------------------------------

The next month after that, he tries to follow Keith home, doesn't get more than ten feet past the Juniberries before there's these things coming from under the sand. They look almost like boiling oil, black and thick liquid, ghost lights for eyes, and they're rushing between the two teens. They're saying - something, something he can't understand, because their voices are harsh whispers, but they're angry, beginning to clamor around Shiro's feet.

They don't get a chance to do anything to him though, not before Keith is there, squishing some of the creatures beneath his feet.

"This one is  _ mine! _ " He snarls, eyes glowing bright and hand wrapped punishingly around Shiro's wrist. The smaller boy doesn't move until the oil creatures are gone, practically dragging Shiro back over the border, letting go of his wrist and staying in the desert. Shiro is shocked, he'd never seen Keith - Keith who smiled at Shiro like the sun, who had to have puns explained, who held Shiro's hand and fell asleep like they were meant to - look that fierce. Even now, his eyes are still glowing, indigo and moonlight reflecting like he's a cat.

"Never enter the desert, humans can't survive in there." His voice trembles like it's just dawned on him that he's not as human as Shiro had been thinking, and disappears, leaving the older boy watching across the desert.

\------------------------------------

Neither of them mention the event the next time they meet

\-------------------------------------

He's 16, 18, 20, and the years blur together in snippets of school and coming home once a month to talk to a little boy who's come from the town, come from the sand, come into being something like an adult. Shiro doesn't mind it, doesn't mind the snapshots of time that frame his memories, in much the same way that his dorm has framed pictures of his brother, of Keith, of his friend and roommate Matt.

"Did I -" Keith asks him one night, taking a long shuddering breath before continuing. "Did I ever tell you about Rose?"

"You've mentioned her, but you've never told me much about her." Shiro looks over at Keith, at how he's staring pointedly at the night sky and not at Shiro, though his left hand is still entwined with Shiro's right.

"She's my mentor. She's been raising me my whole life, her and my friends. She's - she's the most beautiful person I've ever seen. She looks like fire and pictures of volcanos and she's so so nice but she can fight anything and win." The younger boy waves his free hand as he talks, and Shiro can't help but smile softly.

"She sounds like a mom. You love her a lot?"

"Yeah ... I love her a lot." He looks back at Shiro, swallowing past a lump in his throat. "I'm going to tell you something that would make her really mad."

Keith tells him about a princess in a crystal, about Rose's other siblings who guard the way to the mountain, about her Mother who guards the princess's sleeping chamber. He tells of the way that Rose shows him to use fire, has said that her siblings will soon gain their own protectors, that one day, the princess will wake up. He tells him everything, that he's not human, that maybe he once was, that he's already so, so, so full of love for the sleeping princess.

By the time he's done talking, the two of them have rolled onto their sides, facing each other on the flat roof. The night seems too quiet, too still with neither of them talking, just facing each other as Shiro digests all of the information.

He's still quiet when Keith falls asleep, hand still curled loosely in Shiro's.

\------------------------------------------

There's pain.

Pain,  _ Pain,  _ **_PAIN._ **

His thoughts are fuzzy and drifting, but he remembers bits and pieces. Remembers leaving for the desert during noon, when Keith had said his shadow friends were too tired to do much. He remembers the glow of purple magic, a siren song to his curiousity. Then there's more purple, there's pain, a flash of copper hair and a familiar face, then - 

There's blood on his hands, he's lost track of time, but the blood isn't fresh, and he knows that it shouldn't be there. Knows it in the way he knows to fear the Druid and her master, knows it in the way that he knows that he needs to find one, two, three, (four?) people. Knows it in his bones, and he decides, after waking from a long sleep, to escape.

There's pain, there's only pain on the outside, but there's a voice, inside, inside him, that sounds like silver charms and stars, sounds like home. 

_ Keep going. _

_ \------------ _ \-----------------------------------

"What happened out there?" Keith asks, voice soft and raw in a way that is unfamiliar to Shiro. He doesn't know how long it's been, just that it's been too long. Still, the sand child lets him lean against him, rest his hot head against the blessed cool of Keith's shoulder.

"I don't .... really remember. There was a place, and I was - doing something." He knows what he was doing, has a vague idea - flashes of memory, splashes of blood - but he doesn't want to voice these thoughts to Keith. All it takes is a shuddering breath in to remind him that he's lost enough - an arm, the stability of his ribs, most likely his mind - without losing the only person that knows he's alive.

"I escaped, and I remember hearing someone, they told me where to go... Then I woke up and you were here." He tilts his head as much as he can, giving Keith a smile he's almost certain looks more like a grimace, gets a soft smile in return before the man stiffens, looking to where the oil bubble shadows congregate at the edge of the porch, suddenly more active than they had been before, voices hissing and rising.

He doesn't understand the words, but he knows the tone, the way that Keith's eyes look out into the desert. Something's coming.

\---------------------------------------

He remembers cells, remembers fights, remembers feeling so sad and scared and lost, feels a bit of that hopelessness from when he was two. None of the fragmented memories that are allowed to him are comforting, but for his dreams. Stars and silver, cool hands cupping his face and telling him to be strong while smoke drifted around them.

\-------------------------------------

Her hands cup his face now, black as night and flecked with starry specks. The silver of her rings and her bracelets are not imagined, and the feeling that swells in his chest is one of love, unconditional and wonderful. Her eyes are soft where her words are sharp, words he cannot understand while she speaks to Keith, but the feeling of her eyes on him, her cool, dry hands cupping his face like he's a child, opens every secret she has to offer, and he understands her now.

She's giving him a choice now, where she'd always been urging him forward, she's giving him the choice of running away or staying.

"Do it." He says with all the finality his wasting body can manage, and she gives him a soft smile, one that makes him think of his mother. Her smile is soft and proud, and he tries to give one back before he breathes in.

And inhales the universe.

\-----------------------------------

"Mana." 

"What is it, Little Star?" The mother, the leader, is sitting on Keith's porch, no less splendid in the day time, her silver hair glinting in the sunlight. Shiro just shakes his head, laughing softly as he sits next to her.

"Nothing, I just wanted to make sure that was your name. Woke up with it in my head and, well...." He laughs again, rubbing his left hand through his short hair. Mana looks at him, amusement in her yellow gaze.

"Did not want to wake the little Spark?"

"He looked tired." She nods in agreement, waving her hands until there's a curl of smoke between them and plucks something that looks like a cigarette holder from it.

"He is. Been looking over you as you slept for the past three suns." Mana takes a deep drag from the holder, blowing a cloud out, one that looks like a little cumulonimbus, that smells of almost-mint, before turning her face back to Shiro.

"How is the arm? Rose helped me craft it for you." The little smile is gone from her face, eyes pointedly staring at the new arm that Shiro has kept by his side. He gives her a shaky smile, stretching it forwards and letting the sun hit it. In lieu of a normal human arm, it's black, maybe blue in spots, opaque like smokey glass, and streamed through with veins of silver and gold. He turns it slowly, letting the veins of it sparkle in the light as his palm faces the sun, Shiro clenching and unclenching the fist.

"It's great, not the real thing, but better than anything humans could do." The Mother laughs, turning away from him again.

"Of course it is. There is nothing better than sand glass made from stardust." She harrumphs and Shiro can't help but laugh at her response, a smile stretching across his face.

"Thank you though. It means a lot to me that you would save me."

"I did not save you little Star, you did that yourself. I just gave you motivation." There's nothing left to say after that, and they sit there, side by side, watching as the sun moves across the sky. Neither says what the other can feel, that there's something coming soon, stars moving into alignment as shadows pass over their heads.

They don't need to, all of them can feel it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey!! I got someone to post this part for me! (that’s me! hey hi i’m [ellisfifellis](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/ellisfifellis) what’s up) The writing is kinda choppy and jerky, especially with the time changes. It's almost supposed to be how Shiro remembers things post evil magic Galra. Pidge's part is in progress, a bit longer rn than Hunk and Lance's shared part (childhood friends share their magic lion spirits dudes.)  
> Hit me up on Twitter [@PSIDontKnow](https://www.twitter.com/PSIDontKnow) if you wanna meet me in the pit


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